


the cry of a child, the last gasp of a terrified man

by BottleofInk



Category: Hannibal (TV), Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Protective Parents, Queen Sarah, Sarah is badass, Will is saved, Words, beware graphic descriptions of how a character will be destroyed, dark characters, i have no idea what this is, mentions of Jareth, mother - Freeform, mothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:23:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottleofInk/pseuds/BottleofInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Perhaps a single word doesn’t count as speech, though; perhaps such a word is spoken for so long that it is just a twist of tongue – a word that varies from language to language, the cry of a child, the last gasp of a terrified man.'</p><p>Or: Will calls for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cry of a child, the last gasp of a terrified man

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt the need to write something where somebody saves Will.

Will is shaking and sweating, too delirious to even begin to understand what’s happening to him. He shouldn’t even be capable of speech.

Perhaps a single word doesn’t count as speech, though; perhaps such a word is spoken for so long that it is just a twist of tongue – a word that varies from language to language, the cry of a child, the last gasp of a terrified man. 

It isn’t _please_. It isn’t _help_. 

It isn’t even English, the word that claws out of his throat like a reflex. Hannibal doesn’t even notice it, thinks it’s some garbled gibberish. And, certainly, it’s not how the word would normally sound – it’s weighed by pain and drugs and fever.

It is a Goblin word, and it means _mother_. It is a word that Will learned in his infancy, a word crooned to him by a Queen, a woman who grinned teasingly at a King when it was the first Will ever spoke. 

It’s the word Will spoke when he left home, to spend time amongst people who didn’t know who he was, to learn about one side of his heritage. To have his teenage rebellion, as stubborn a boy as his parents.

It’s the word Will should have spoken months ago, should have said as soon as he started hallucinating. Should have said when his head began to burn.

But regardless, he does not have to speak it again.

She doesn’t arrive with fanfare, like his father. She steps from shadows like a ghost, presses a hand to his forehead so quietly Hannibal doesn’t even turn around. She soothes Will’s shaking, lets magic snake from her fingertips into him. Under her touch, Will’s lips form something like a smile, as he drifts off to sleep in an instant, slumping forward into her hold. She cradles him a moment before he disappears, leaving behind only a small shower of glitter – even in sleep, he is his father’s son.

“Do you know,” she says, and Hannibal spins around, a weapon already in hand – a scalpel. He takes in the woman – taller than he is, dressed in strange clothes, with long dark hair that looks a little like Will’s, and eyes like nothing he has ever seen – a green of a forest that glow too vibrant in the dull light, “the argument I had with my husband before coming here?”

She walks towards Hannibal, who stares at her. He opens his mouth to speak – and finds he cannot. His voice flows out of him like so much smoke, crimson and black. It gathers against the ceiling like a cloud, and he thinks he can hear words in it.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a voice that indicates she isn’t, “I just can’t stand the noises mortals make when they’re in pain.”

And he is in the chair that Will had just vacated, and his head feels as if it is burning, and the edges of the room are blurring as sweat drips down his brow. The woman before him hasn’t moved a finger, but her expression –

It is something ancient and angry, an expression worn time and time again by a mother protecting her young.

“You see my husband wanted to bring a dozen guards, wanted to have them pull you apart piece by piece, so that your blood would coat this floor – these walls – every inch of this place. He wanted to see your glistening insides and then pull free your mind and leave it somewhere in the dark, where you would be shapeless, unable to move, unable to indicate to even the smallest creature that you still existed.”

She bends down before him so that their eyes are level. “Don’t mistake me, I did not come to offer mercy. I will not offer something kinder than my husband. My argument, you see, was that he and I deal with you personally. I will peel you away from yourself. I will take your strength and your control, and it will join your voice. I will start from the inside, taking all the things that might protect you, and then my husband, he will break your shell.”

She smiles, “And then we will leave your mind, stripped of its defenses, somewhere dark, where you will be shapeless and nameless, unremembered and unimportant.”

“But how rude of me,” she says, and straightens, “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Sarah, and I’m Will’s mother.”

If Hannibal could speak, he would speak a single word (though it would do him no good).

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it.


End file.
